


The Prince and the Pilot

by djdaddybek (llyn)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 08:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14516646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyn/pseuds/djdaddybek
Summary: Otabek, a brave resistance starfighter and not at all a wreck of a human being, volunteers to rescue a gorgeous young prince for purely heroic reasons





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my Star Wars AU with kawaiilo-ren!!

Otabek nurses perhaps the worst hangover of his young life at the pilot’s briefing, bleary eyes hidden behind dark glasses, shaky hand clutching caf like it’s gonna undo the last twelve hours.

“It’s not even the end of the cycle, dude,” Leo says, taking a long, smug look at him before dropping in the seat beside. “Never met anyone who parties like you.”

“I try,” Otabek says, voice scratchy, stray death stick spirals still licking the corners of his vision in neon green and pinks. The plan is–not that planning is his forte but–the plan is to pass out, immediately, right in this chair, as soon as General Breya calls roll.

“Otawreck,” Leo says, grinning, just before Breya brings their attention to the center of the room. It’s not that Otabek doesn’t pay attention–it’s that he can’t. The Synthotheque bass still hums in his ear and–combined with the hangover, the death sticks, the hazy memory of sex–reality has a kind of underwater quality. He manages to answer to his own name for roll but the minutia of the mid-cycle meeting washes over him as sounds and lights–dull compared to the sensory overload he’d stumbled out of with his arms around two local brats only a few hours ago. He’d left them in his bunk. They’d probably already robbed him and fucked off by now.

“Finally,” Breya says, “there’s the matter of Troisk. The prince–” Otabek’s ears catch hopefully on that magic word, finally, and then the holoprojected image of whatever planet Breya’s on about–the lights and colors of which Otabek had been enjoying from a purely psychedelic level–dissolves, replaced by a projection of a grumpy little prince with his belly button showing. Otabek’s head clears just enough to make room permanently for him.  _Stars_ , what a pretty tart. The prince of where?

“–Troisk has become the target of increasing–”

Troisk, okay. Judging from the prince’s fur collar, a cold place. A long, gold braid from the top of his head tickles the bare skin of his tummy, where a fine, gold chain wraps around his thin waist. Skin tight leggings with heavy boots, a little half-cape slung over his shoulder, pink lips in a full pout–Otabek’s not sure if his heart’s pounding from the unexpected but welcome arrival of the sweetest thing he’s ever seen or if he’s for real about to die from one night out too many.

“We’ll need a volunteer to smuggle the prince–”

“Me,” Otabek says, shooting up out of his seat and regretting it. Leo’s steadying subtle hand on his back is the only thing keeping him upright. “Me,” Otabek says again, then pulls the shades off his face after Breya raises an eyebrow. “I,” he says, just to clarify, “will save the prince.”

“What a hero,” Leo mutters.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may the fourth be with you!!

In the palace on Troisk, Yuri’s personal guard plucks the crystals from his hair, but each one--plink, plink, plink--falls through his shaking fingers to the floor.

The prince knocks his hand away and kicks his bare feet up onto the polished ice-glass vanity. He takes over the task, fingers as busy as his gaze is steady on the guard. He frowns. “You’re acting weird. Did that girl finally dump you?”

JJ sighs, leaning back against the vanity, too. Between the two of them, it creaks in warning. Spring is coming: already the prince is in his lighter robes--smooth skin showing between the loose silvery weave--and the ice is weak. JJ doesn’t even have the heart to say, _You wish, princess_. He just looks down at his hands, instead, fumbling his heavy gloves back on. “I’ve got some bad news, kid.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” Oh man, Yuri’s gonna have him skinned alive for this. But then JJ remembers the poor brat won’t even get the chance. “Remember how you made me make that holorecording of you?”

The prince’s mouth twitches up, “I remember how it was your idea.”

“Yeah. Well. I kind of had another idea, after.”

Yuri narrows his eyes, and this time his “Like what?” has sharp edges.

JJ winces, already cut, “So. The thing is. I kinda put it on the holonet.”

Of course, as expected, the little slut loves this, smiling wide. “Yeah? Did it blow up?”

“Yeah,” he wrings his hands but the guilt won’t come out.  

“Ha!” Yuri tosses his head back. “I hope I gave Katsuki a heart attack.”

“That’s the thing, princess--”

“Don’t call me that--” Yuri warns, picking up his brush to start the long process of combing and plaiting that JJ watches each night, more or less hypnotized by shining white gold and the prince humming sweetly, long legs draped over the arm of his chair. Ah, his heart. He’s gonna miss this life. “I wish they would let me back on the fucking holonet,” Yuri mutters.

“Yeah. I mean. You’re on it. In another way. And it, uh, got a lot of attention. And now,” JJ looks everywhere but the prince, “--the First Order’s on their way. And they say they’re gonna take you.”

“The F-” a crack opens in the ice-glass beneath Yuri’s feet, but otherwise he only looks side to side, thinking hard, the brush still moving thoughtlessly through his hair. “Why?”

“Hard to say,” It’s not though. JJ filmed the vid. He’s watched it. Many, many times. Easy to imagine any number of freaks crossing the galaxy at lightspeed to collect this prize. He looks down at his nails. “Some officer must’ve liked your kitty show,” he mumbles.

For half a tick fear slips down over the prince’s eyes, and his brush slows to a stop in his hair. Then he twists his lips, “Good.”

“No, Yuri. It’s not good. If they take you--I mean--you’re not gonna coming back. ”

“Leave here forever? Fucking _great_.” The prince’s silver nexu cub slinks in, jumping into his lap, silver bell tinkling. Yuri coos, uncaring that the might of the Order is speeding his way. Such a brat. Not worth the worry. As bad as his great, fanged cat. JJ just can’t help himself, though.

“Trust me, Yuri, you don’t know these First Order types. They’re fucking _nerds_.”

Yuri scoffs, “Yeah, right. Last I checked their aesthetic’s hot. I look good in black, too.”

“You deserve more than some geek playing Imperial dress-up, sweetheart.” He shuts his mouth before more damning words come tumbling out. If Yuri’s really not concerned about his pending abduction, he’ll have plenty of time to skin JJ alive before they melt down the doors.

Yuri tilts his chair back on two legs with a sigh, looking out at the sky. “I’m so sick of being paraded around here in Viktor’s old rags.”

“Oh, but they’re gonna parade you, sweetheart. They _love_ parades.”

“Sorry, JJ,” the prince turns back to look at him with a lazy shrug, robe falling down one creamy shoulder. “If they want me they can have me.”

“The king already sent for the Resistance.”

“No fair!” the chair comes crashing down. Potya yowls. “Shh, you’re coming, too, Potya,” the prince sings at his little cub, brushing the nexu’s ruffled fur flat with his own gilt comb. Potya yawns, settling back down in his lap. Those dagger teeth catch the pink light of the sunsets. JJ’s gonna miss the sight of the two of them--all silver and white and pink and sharp. He’s probably gonna die here tonight, he thinks, just so the little slut can step over him on the arm of some asshole. Then again, it _is_ his fault.

He hums, thinking up a new angle. “You know, the Order wiped out the nexu, right? They’re the reason Potya’s an orphan.” _Like you_ , he doesn’t say.

This gets the Yuri’s attention. “Katsuki said there was a forest fire.”

JJ clicks his tongue, “There was.”

He leaves the little brat to think about _that_ \--wishing there was more he could do to change his mind. That hard head. All he can do now is strap himself head to toe in blasters and stake out the door. He’ll have to take some stims, stay up all night. The Order’s due before the third moon. He can only hope the Resistance gets here first. Either way, the poor princess is not gonna like what happens next.


End file.
